René Mnemonic

In the scope of all journalists, I’d probably fall under the “Crap” category. I only say that, however, because I don’t do what I see other journalists do. One of those things is take notes. Occasionally I take notes, but most of the time I just absorb. Chalk it up to an over-reliance and over-estimation of my memory. It’s always been this way for me. I always hated taking notes — even school — which is probably why I didn’t do so well. Now that I think about it, I don’t believe I studied much before tests either. I’m impressed that I graduated high school!

I will say, however, that my memory is pretty handy. For instance, I’m able to screen a movie and not have to take notes in the middle of the film for my review later. Actually, that’s not a great way to showcase my memory since I haven’t seen one movie critic take notes in all my years screening movies. I only assumed they did because I read a Roger Ebert article in which he mentioned where he sat and what he brought into the theater with him — in the back row with a briefcase, which he set on his lap to take notes on index cards. I tried taking notes for a while. My friends even got me one of those pens with a red LED tip so that I could write in the dark without disturbing people around me too much. It didn’t take. It felt like pre-writing to me — or writing in a journal or diary: unnecessary. If a portion of the film affected me enough to jot a note down why did I need the note?

Most of the time I just busted out the pen during public screeners to impress the non-film critics that might be sitting around me. Whenever my red tip illuminated the dark I cast fish-eye glances left and right as if to say, “Hey, I’m a professional.”

Anyway. Right now I’m feeling a bit like Johnny Mnemonic. If you haven’t seen this film, it stars Keanu Reeves in a dystopic future where information is the most important commodity. Reeves plays Johnny: an information courier who stores data within an implant inside his skull. Unfortunately, he’s had to dump a chunk of his brain to make room for the device, giving up a portion of his long term memory — his childhood. After years of smuggling information to and fro for sundry clients, Johnny wants out and his memory restored. He’s convinced to do one final job that guarantees a big payday. Unfortunately, his capacity isn’t enough to store all of the data, but he forces the download anyway, causing all sorts of physical reactions as synaptic leakage wreaks havoc on his nervous system. That’s how I feel right now. Minus the last part. I went to a bunch of events this week and haven’t had a chance to do the write-ups and I’m having a little trouble keeping everything in my head.

I’m also a little concerned about my eating habits. I haven’t been grocery shopping in months. I’ve been eating out way too often, which can’t be healthy physically or financially. I’m going to take some time to sort my life out this weekend. 🙁

The coffee and review material graveyard.
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